Page 16 of What Blooms from Death

It was one of the four bracelets I always wore. I had other accessories spelled with minor powers that I sometimes experimented with, but these four—well,five, now—were made of something stronger, both physically and magically speaking.

The original four were all intimately tied to my innate magic. The power the red bracelet helped me channel more effectively had been one of the earliest kinds to naturally manifest: The ability to drain energy from things.

It was the same ability I’d been practicing in the garden the night of my last conversation with Aleksander, before everything had gone to shit. I couldn’t forget any of the details of that night, no matter how hard I tried—and maybe because I associated this power with that moment in time, I’d struggled to practice it every day since.

Soof courseit would be the one I needed to use.

I spoke none of my concerns out loud, but Orin picked up on them anyway.

“You are more capable with siphoning magic than you give yourself credit for,” he insisted.

I ignored the praise and promptly changed the subject. I could handle my fears better when I didn’t dwell on them—which was why I’d made myself a master at burying them so I could remain, as Phantom put it,exhaustingly optimistic.

“And what about Phantom?” I asked Orin. “Will he be able to follow me through this chaos?”

He looked to the trees again, to where the creature in question was a blur of darkness weaving in between the trunks, likely chasing a squirrel. Some doglike habits persisted, however much he’d changed after his near-death experience.

“I’m afraid I can’t say. It will be an interesting experiment,” said Orin. “He exists just fine within this world that he doesn’t fully belong to, though, so hopefully, he’ll manage in the netherworld, too.”

I watched Phantom for another moment, fighting off a frown. Part of me didn’t want to risk bringing him. But I knew he would never let me go without him; he hadn’t even let me go as far as Rose Point on my own.

“Tomorrow, more will become clear,” Orin said, giving my shoulder a comforting squeeze before nodding toward the house. “Now, this time I’m ordering you: Get some rest. I’ll finish packing your things. We leave for the Nocturnus Door at first light.”

How doesone pack their things for a trip to the afterlife?

It was the question I’d fallen asleep pondering, and the first one that came to mind as I blinked my eyes open to dreary sunlight.

The scent of spiced tea wafted up from below. Thetip tapof rain on the thatched roof fell from above. Most of the windows were open in spite of that rain, allowing the sound of the creek to rush in—not with its typical babbling, comforting trickle, but with a roar of swelled-up and swiftly-moving water; I’d slept through what must have been a heavy storm.

I imagined myself caught in that creek’s rushing current, letting it pull me toward my destination. It yanked me around, tumbled me out from under the covers and through the motions of dressing, before it tossed me—off-balance, but doggedly onwards—toward the stairs.

I descended with as much steadiness as I could muster, greeting Orin the same cheerful way I did most mornings.

Breakfast was a quiet, resolved affair. I tried not to think about how this might be the last time I sat at our table, with all the scratches and dents and burn marks I’d come to know and love over the years.

After breakfast, I went through my bag one last time, took a few quiet moments to mentally bury the fears trying to wrap their fingers around me…

And then it was time to leave.

We took a carriage out of Luscerna, driven by one of the few acquaintances Orin trusted in this city—Alistair Finch.

Finch had always seemed a bit…offto me, with his heavily-scarred skin and a penchant for bursting into strange songs without warning. But he also never questioned Orin whenever we needed a favor from him. And we needed his indifference this morning; anybody else would have surely wanted to know what the hell we were doing—why we were asking him to take us to such an odd location.

While Orin made small-talk with Finch—and occasionally hummed along with his songs—I stayed curled up in the back corner, watching the countryside blur by.

I’d left my newest bracelet on my left wrist, separate from the others. Keeping it alone on one arm helped me feel more balanced, given how heavy it was.

I absently plucked and pinched at the beads and bands of my original four as we bumped along. The black-rose bracelet—probably my most-used and trusted piece. The red-beaded bracelet I’d apparently have to rely on once I was on the Nocturnus Road. A wide bracelet made of colorful string, woven tightly into a pattern featuring multiple diamonds, which helped bolster my innate ability to speak with the dead; I suspected it was also a force that kept the communication between Phantom and I consistently smooth.

And finally, there was the bracelet my father had given me on my eighteenth birthday—one that still occasionally vibrated with the same, unmistakable power I’d felt when I first slipped it on…though it was a power I remained clueless about.

Orin proved evasive every time I tried to press him for details about it. He was the one who had made it, but it seemed my father had pressured him into the task; without my father mandating the lessons, Orin seemed content to let me figure out this particular power on my own.

The most I’d ever pried from him was a cryptic reply that the magic it channeled would reveal itself on its own…ifit was meant to be.

As our ride stretched on, I found I couldn’t take my eyes off the turquoise beads of my father’s gift. Couldn’t bring myself to stop studying the strange symbols carved and painted on some of the larger orbs—letters, I’d decided, but ones I’d failed to decipher, despite many hours spent flipping through Orin’s books full of ancient languages and long-forgotten history.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

---